


Red

by RecoveringNavigator



Series: Colors [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anger, Boys Being Boys, Boys Kissing, Falling In Love, I'm Not Ashamed, Levi is a Little Shit, M/M, Other, armin is himself and then some, bus rides, easily annoyed, nervous glances
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:50:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3678222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RecoveringNavigator/pseuds/RecoveringNavigator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I got inspired last night and instead of writing another chapter to my other stories I decided to do one dedicated to Levi and Armin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Some people say that an apple a day keeps the doctor away.

And maybe, in some twisted way, they’re right.

It kept everything away. It kept the cavities from forming and the teacher from frowning in class. It kept the average kid from being bored during Halloween by bobbing in that wooden tub of water. It kept a horse from feeling mistreated, and left out. It kept everyone happy. But for me, it did not keep the doctor away.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Maybe I wasn’t eating the right type of apples. Maybe I was suppose to eat a Pacific Rose instead of a Red Delicious. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to rip the stem off or core it, because I couldn’t stand the fucking seeds. And maybe I wasn’t suppose to fuckin’ drown it in maple syrup when I was having a rough week at school.

But I did.

And I was too deep into this addiction to turn back now. 

I dipped another apple slice in a puddle of Mrs. Butterworth’s syrup, making sure that it was completely smothered in the beautiful elixir. And after I made sure to wipe up every last buttery drop out of my tableware storage container, I popped it in my mouth happily. Trying my best to suppress the greedy moan that threatened to fall from my lips, I scowled, and squirmed slightly in my seat. In the end, all I managed to do was lower it to a rough growl. But who da fuck cares. You haven’t lived until you’ve had a full plate load of Petra’s apple pancakes. And boy do I fucking love it when she makes them. She always manages to make the best apple pancakes I’ve ever had in my fuckin’ life. And that’s something coming from me. For I am, and always will be, a picky ass eater. 

I unconsciously licked my fingers as I decided to survey whatever the fuck was outside. The first thing I noticed was that it was misty, and the skies seemed to be cloudy, and bright at the same goddamn time. It was also gray, like watered down black acrylic paint. And I could hear the sound of rain tapping the tinted bus window. It was calming, in a way. That is until some brat in the back decided to start singing “Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix-a-Lot. Don’t ask me why I know that. Just know that I had a fucked up first grade experience and that my best friend, Hanji, fucking loved that song. She loved it so much that she sung it every day. And she sung it so much that, until this day, I know every fucking verse. So I know when someone shouts “You other brothers can’t deny!”, that someone’s gonna fucking die today. And I’m gonna have to be bailed out of prison for first degree murder.

“You get sprung, want to pull up tough!” Some kid shouted from behind my seat. 

And in return, I decided now would be the best time to put in my headphones before I lost my shit. As I proceeded to try and find a decent song on my MP3, I felt someone’s hand brush my hair. But I ignored it because I’m mature, and punching someone in the face for accidently touching my hair didn’t sound good on my “personal record”. Sure, it would be great to feel my fist crack a few bones, but I rather not be banned from riding the bus. My fingers, instead, fiddled with my nicely pressed tank top as I tried my best to ignore the constant beats sputtering from those dumb fuckers’ mouths as that kid, once again, screamed- not sing- but screamed, “ Oh baby, I want to get wit'cha!” .

Just when I thought my day couldn’t get worse, I began to notice that my seat was getting wet from the rain. Apparently, I sat in the only goddamn seat with a jacked up window. I scowled as I quickly began to scoot over to the dry part of my seat. All was well until my hip bumped into something small and soft, which I assumed had be another fucking cheerleader who thought I needed some “company”. I turned around to snap at whoever had the balls to sit next to me when, all of a sudden, the bus took a sharp turn. Which in return, caused the fucking brat to come crashing into me. 

My head throbbed with a pain I never thought could be physically possible. To say I was pissed would be an understatement. No. I was far beyond that. I was fucking furious. And as I winced at my weak attempt to lean up from where my head had collided with the window, I felt a loose sigh fall from my lips. I felt like I had a hangover, minus the alcohol I so desperately needed. 

I felt like breaking something. 

Or maybe someone. 

Just when I was about to yell at the kid, I began to notice where exactly I was. I was near the window…

“Dear God.” I hissed as I quickly examined my khaki cargo shorts. 

They were wet. Specifically in the middle, they were wet. Very wet. So wet that I looked like I peed I myself. I heard a few murmurs as the kids in the back continued to sing another lyric from that fucking song. Something about “She's sweat, wet,/ Got it goin' like a turbo 'Vette” really made my blood boil. Then out of the corner of my eyes I saw that fucking kid fidgeting, and looking around for some clue on what to say.

Oh, you have every right to be fucking afraid, kid.

I whipped my head around to cast my darkest glare at the brat as I set my face into pure “bitch mood”. I was about to cuss the bitch out so bad that she’d be crying for a month. Hell, she might even need therapy to get what little self confidence she’ll have left back. But as my eyes began to focus, and my headache began to fade I noticed two things.

1.This person had huge blue eyes.  
2.She was a he.

I think? I mean he had pretty long hair for a guy. And his waist was a lot smaller than all the other jocks on this bus. But if I squinted my eyes hard enough, I began to notice little hints of masculinity in him. Such as his kind of wide shoulders. Or his small Adam’s apple that bobbed everytime he nervously gulped for air. 

“I-I’m sorry. I d-didn’t mean to bump into you like that-” 

And as on cue, his eyes caught a glimpse of my wet cargo shorts. And for a split second, I swear that son of a bitch lost the ability to breathe. 

“OHmiGawD! D-Do you need napkins?! Wait. Of c-course you do.That’s a stupid question. Sorry. That was a s-stupid question.” The words fell out his mouth before I could even begin to voice my anger at his restless behavior.

The blonde boy then began to rummage through his book bag in search of something to help me clean up. His hair was swept back into a messy bun, but a few loose strands still managed to fall in his face. And for some reason, I had the overwhelming urge to sweep it behind his ear. I flinched when I felt him push some paper towels onto my lap. 

“I hope this helps some. Again I-I’m really sorry for...um… you know.” He mumbled a few more words of apology as he tried to recollect what little composure he had. Which wasn’t much.

I slowly allowed my eyes to trail the outline of his hands. They were frail and larger than I expected for a boy his size. And also red? Well, his nails were. A very deep shade of crimson coated those obviously rough nails. He had those type of fingers that would look good sliding across a keyboard. Or across someone’s lips, like a secret lover. Oh, but his wrist was even smaller. It looked like it would snap if I just tugged him closer to me. And suddenly I had the urge to test the theory. I grabbed his wrist and yanked him over towards me. Our legs were touching now and our lips were just an inch away. He looked scared, shocked, and content with staying by my side. And at that moment, I felt my chest tighten.

“Good thing you stopped talking or I swear I was gonna just punch you right in the dick.”

His astonishment soon turned into a fit of nervous chuckles. And before I could ask what was so goddamn funny, I began to catch the familiar scent of peppermints and lemons. His breathe calmly swept over my face. And I began to appreciate rainy days and dumb ass bus drivers. 

And on that day, my favorite color became red.


	2. Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So confrontation? Bus ride ends. Jean's a dick. And Levi has anger issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So people actually like this story so I wrote more. *shrugs and rolls on floor*
> 
> P.S. I know Black is not a color. But who cares!XD

You could say that words mean everything to me. But you could also say, that I was made from nothing, but loose phrases, and murmured ‘I love you’s that my father deemed “romantic”. 

My mother, on the other hand, deemed it “desperate”, but she was also grasping for something to brag about. Someone to cherish. So of course she said “I love you.” back. And when my father led her to the back seat of his dad’s Ford LTD II, her fate was set in discarded condoms, and distasteful, repetitive love songs. 

They kissed like the naive little brats they were, and she cried like a newborn toddler when the movements became too rough. When the minutes became a little too drawn out. 

But she still said yes.

And while my father became drugged on the thought of a relationship, my mother became lost in the practice of “believing” in love. We all know she didn’t. But she still ran in head first into what could only be defined as “her love anthem”. For it was a pledge she had to take, for she knew she wasn’t much. She wasn’t the smartest chick on the block, or the hottest girl in Maria High. She wasn’t meant to work ten hours a day at some fast food joint. She was meant to be a poet of love. A liar of the heart and mind. She spoke lines of admiration, and praise over things she knew were average. She gloated about him to her friends like he was a gold trophy when in reality she knew she got a brass medal.  
She did it to make the time go by smoother. 

She wanted her life to be easier. 

So she pretended to be a “grown up”, and got pregnant at 16.

And before the days could even begin to settle into “self hate”, her parents threw her out while screaming about how she was a rat meant to scavenge, for what little respect the world had left for a girl like her. They said she was meant for nothing, but she thought she was meant for everything. 

Her feet slammed against the pavement as she ran to you, and her heart actually began to feel something for you. It was need. It was desire. And for the first time in her life, she got what she aimed for.

She got a man who’d nurture her like she was anything, but second best.

She was treasured by him, and me?

I was nothing but a consolation prize.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

By the time the bus had arrived at school, I was already addicted to the blonde boy’s laugh. I took the time to observe every crinkle around his eye. Every light chuckle that painted his laughter. Every nervous glance that came from his eyes. I was now used to this.

But what I’m not used to is someone talking to me, with such respect and grace. Like he was on my level, but also beneath me. As if he actually enjoyed my poker face, and dry replies. 

No one ever did.

But it was refreshing to know he tried.

So when he started to gather his things, I began to become aware that I had been staring at him a little too long. A little too wantingly. His eyes spared a quick glance at me, and I heard my breath hitch in my throat. It wasn’t that he was beautiful, or anything. It was just that he reminded me of a doodle on a piece of loose leaf notebook paper. Small, but something you’d instantly notice if you took the time to care. He was, what others may define as, a mindless thought. A forgotten last night stand. The person who didn’t get the happily ever after. He was the one that caught me by surprise.

He could only be what some didn’t want.

A memory. 

“So..Ummm….” he hummed.

“It was nice talking to you…?” 

The blonde stopped as if he was contemplating something. Something important, like that one forgotten item on your parent’s grocery list. I could only assume it was me. For his stare seemed to linger a little too long on my eyes. On my mouth. On my everything.

It was then I realized he didn’t even know my name. 

And I didn’t know his. 

“Levi.” I said. “My name’s Levi.”

Something about him repeating my name sent chills through my ribs. It caged my excitement, but couldn’t cage my pent up appreciation for him. Which wasn’t much, for I only knew the kid for like twenty minutes.

“Levi…” he muttered. “It was nice making your acquaintance, Levi.”

I nodded, and before he could walk down the aisle and get off the bus, he turned to me one final time.

“Maybe….I’ll see you around?” he mumbled.

It was a quiet plea for attention. 

But it was enough for me.

And before I could even agree to his sad attempt of a discreet invitation, a boy with a bad undercut rushed through the aisle. He seemed confused at the fact of why the boy was still standing there. I, on the other hand, was not. For I was the reason he hadn’t left. I decided to lean up, and do a quick scan of the bus.

It was then I began to notice that half the bus had left already.

“Bae, what the fuck are you doing-”

And before the words could even finish jumping off the cliff that was his lips, he paused. His eyes somehow caught mine as we began to do a game of tug, and war for control. And of course, I won. But that little bitch didn’t seem to care for he stood a little taller. Smirked a little harder. And began to wrap an arm around the other petite boy’s waist. A frown must’ve been etched into my face, for the boy seemed to beam “Victory”. He adjusted his cheap red letterman jacket, and with a little shrug of his shoulders he began to lean on the other boy. 

“Who da fuck is this, Armin?” he spat.

‘Armin.' I thought. 'His name is Armin.’ 

And as the words began to echo in the dark cavern that was my mind, his eyes seemed to scan my face. Before a loose smile could trace his lips, he began to speak. 

“He’s my new friend. His name is-”

“New friend? Pfft.” A loud cackle escaped his mouth, and I felt the overwhelming need to put that pathetic piece of shit in his place.

“Why the fuck would you be this little French cunt’s friend?”

Honestly, I was impressed he was able to say that whole sentence without stopping for air. Most would’ve been shaking, and gasping after they saw who I was at my old school. But this wasn’t Titan High. It was Maria. And it took me some time to realize I was standing in the bastard’s face, a little too close if I might add. Our eyes met and sparks were beginning to glide through the air. 

He was pissed.

But, man, oh man, was I fucking furious.

Tension was building in the air, and I was quickly forgetting every breathing technique my counselor taught me last summer. I was forgetting to count to ten to control my breathing. And I had forgotten to bring my stress ball to squeeze. And man, did I need it..

“You know what Sugar Cube!” I growled. “ I don’t fuckin’ need some wannabe 90’s bitchface screaming at me at….” I checked my watch.” ….7:40 am in the goddamn morning! If you gotta problem with me then you better just say it!”

A snarl escaped that kid’s mouth as a hand latched around my collar. And as our eyes met, I could feel someone grab my wrist, and tug. Another one grabbed that kid’s jacket, and they quickly pulled us apart. 

“Knock it off, Jean! You wanna get kicked off the bus again!?” 

Some kid with skin too tan shouted. He was tall compared to me, and he seemed just a tad irritated. But who wouldn’t be annoyed after spending years growing up with that.

“Fuck you Jeager!” Jean yelled. 

“YOU ALREADY DID REMEMBER?!” The boy retorted. 

A few “ohhh”s colored the air as a bunch of kids jumped over seats to see what the fuss was about. Chanting began as the pair started to throw insults, and forgotten last night stands through the air like grenades. And as if on impact, they exploded into countless reactions, and loose swears painted them. They were victims of their own uncontrollable tempers. And I was pleased to watch the battle alongside everyone else. 

Something tightened around my wrist as a light tug of my shoulder forced me to remember what had just happened. Oceans of blue met clouds of grey, and my world began to merge with another’s. He seemed concerned, but also content. He seemed…. calm.

“I’m sorry…” He started. “...for how my boyfriend reacted….He’s not always that bad.”

Boyfriend.

That bastard was this wonderful kid’s boyfriend. 

“How the hell-”

“We’re childhood friends.” He stated. 

“I’ve known him since elementary. And I guess you could say, I like him.”

“You….guess.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I guess.” He smiled at me as if he had just said something so sweet. As if he had whispered his first “I love you” to me. As if he expected me to do something irrational.

What the brat didn’t know was I am always irrational.

And I am always willing to show it. 

“Do you…” I thought on how to say it without coming off as desperate or clingy. I did just meet the kid after all. I don’t want him to think I’m a stalker, or something.

I’m not by the way.

“...Do you w-wanna show me…... around school?” I asked.

He cocked an eyebrow at me, and I could feel my fingers twitch.

I was anxious. 

And my confidence didn’t seem to reflect my words. But, man, did I pray to whatever god there was, that my eyes did. He must’ve noticed. For his eyes began to soften, and his cheeks began to puff out as he laughed. And maybe, just maybe, he saw a little spirit in me. For he straightened his shoulders, and let a grin edge onto his face. It was cocky, but subtle. It was something small, but loud in it’s own way. It was another reason I found him “intriguing”. And I think that’s when I began to notice the the clothes he was wearing. 

Tight leather jeans gripped his legs as a white band shirt hugged his chest. He was skinny, but there was a little muscle around his arms. He had on a matching leather jacket, but it looked like someone ripped off the sleeves. It was badass, honestly. And with his hair in that low, messy bun, it somehow managed to look cute.

His face was delicate, but his body could make any saint feel like a sinner.

Good thing I was already one to begin with.


	3. Pink: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi's Dad? Arguing. And more tension for no reason. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I haven't been updating. I had the worst writer's block and school has been keeping me busy!( But I guess that's what happens when you're about to graduate)

I was one of those kids that didn’t grow up with a good father figure. It’s not that he was abusive, or anything. It’s just that, sometimes, my father was a selfish man.

He only taught me things that he knew would benefit him. So I guess, you could say, he didn’t care as much as my mother did. For his form of parenting was showing me how to brush his hair at a certain angle, to get most of the curls out, in the least amount of time. For even though he dressed like a hippie, my father was a busy man. And he did not tolerate half the things my mother did.

He had already put up with my mother’s ridiculous standards for the last 18 years. What reason was there for him to put up with mine? So as quick as my “dad” fell for my mom, was how fast I soon began to dislike my father.

I began to spend every Saturday outside, out of spite, in the backyard next to the neighbor’s gate. For they had a dog, a tiny black poodle, that I truly loved with all my heart. She was loud, and energetic, and really liked the taste of Lunchables crackers. And gawd, did I love it when she would try, and dig her way into our yard. Sometimes I would even help. But every Sunday, after I went off with my grandmother to Sunday school, my dad would fill up the hole that we had dug. It made me so mad. My blood would boil every time. I would run to the kitchen for a glass a water, later that day, and he would lash out at me for, once again, digging up the neighbor’s yard. And man, oh, man would I scream! 

I threw the biggest fit for someone who was supposed to be 12 years old. 

But man, was it worth it.

I soon began to get punished for digging up whatever my father had placed down. Dirt. Gravel. Sticks. I didn’t really care. But, for some odd reason, he did. So he would make me write five page reports on how to keep the perfect garden. None of which, included a bratty 12 year old digging up the yard for his canine companion. 

But he soon noticed that this wasn’t working. So, every Saturday, he made sure I was busy with something. Washing the dishes, hanging his socks on hangers to dry over his bed, taking all the empty cereal boxes, and putting them in his room. Hell, he even made me clean the attic. 

The situation itself was almost comical, really.

After about two months of this torture, I soon began to do all these things on my own without my father telling me to do so. I ran water in the bath tub, just in case he wanted to color the water with food coloring drops again. I even turned each picture frame hanging on the wall at a 65 degrees angle.  
It’s not like there were any pictures inside the frames. But that was normal, for a man, like my father, for he was not a very photogenic person. 

I kept doing all these little chores over, and over until it became my daily routine. And it continued to be, all the way up until I turned 15. That was around the time our neighbor came to tell me that the tiny black poodle had died of heart worms. She said that every day the poor pup would puke worms, as she sat waiting for me to come dig with her. And every day she would turn around, and go sit on the back porch, just to repeat the process all over the next day. I never did forgive my father for that. But I also never stopped doing my daily routine either. 

And because of him I guess, you could say, that I am now a busy man.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the bus dropped us off in front of the school, I decided to head straight to the cafeteria for a milk. I was in desperate need of an excuse to depart from the angry glares of that kid with the long face. And I also needed a reason to follow Armin inside. Sure, it wasn’t a very… good excuse, but it was a hell of a lot better than running after him with my tail between my legs, as if I’d been tamed. 

Levi Ackerman was never tamed.

I was just slightly tolerable of others.

And as we arrived at the cafeteria, I then began to realize why I didn’t eat breakfast in the morning at school anymore. People had no speck of respect for others around them. Or themselves, for that matter.

It was as if these kids hadn’t had a decent meal in years, for they devoured mini pancakes, and apple flavored Nutrigrain bars like monsters. Heck, some even thought it was wise to steal a blueberry muffin, just to chuck it at one of the lunch ladies. 

I, on the other hand, did not think it was necessary.

I quickly made my way over to grab a lunch tray, as I stood in line behind Armin.

It was easy to notice his smile. But it wasn’t as simple to notice just how tall the boy was. He was an amazing 5”6, and stunning. I was a fucking ordinary 5”2 and irritable. Now it wasn’t something you’d notice if you sat next to him on the bus. It was just something I came to realize after spending ten minutes standing behind said boy. This was one of the little things I began to pick at, for I guess, you could say, I was becoming addicted to the boy.

Like a breeze to trees, I hoped to someday make his world stop. Just to make it move to the rhythm of my voice.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The line seemed to move at a snail’s pace as kids, one after the other, picked out an item off the breakfast menu. One picked a muffin, another picked those pancakes that were soaked in too much syrup. And I think one kid picked only an apple, for he was “a vegan that didn’t wish to take another life away”. All in all, it was a calm kind of exchange between adolescence, and adults too lazy to go back to college to get a better career. One that, most likely, didn’t involve smart ass kids that had to question every little thing on the menu. ‘ Are these crackers gluten-free?’, ‘Do you have to soak the pancakes in syrup, or do they just come like that?’, and my most personal favorite, ‘What the fuck is that, and why does it have sugar on it?’

It was oatmeal, sadly. But I was not one to be too picky about breakfast. But, maybe, that’s because I had already had mine on the bus. I grabbed a blueberry muffin, and a small bowl of warm oatmeal, and held the spoon over the mush, as I poured a little sugar, about a third of a cup, into it. It looked clumpy, but, hopefully, the sugar could mask the texture. I gave up on that thought when I saw one kid across the room make a very sour expression.

Armin led me over to one of the round tables near the far back corner of the cafeteria. Apparently, this was where his crew had been sitting since like the ninth grade. I then learned, as we were strolling over to said group, that they were all in the 11th grade. Well, everyone except Jean. He was a senior, but, unlike me, he was very proud of it. Well, technically, I was a junior. But after I was homeschooled my whole life, up until high school, it was only natural that I was ahead of my peers, right?

“Hey Arm!” 

“Sup’ Baldy!”

“I thought I told you it doesn’t count as bald if you choose to shave it!”

“Pfft. Whatever you say.”

The blonde boy smirked as he took his seat near said boy. I, on the other, decided to leave my face blank. For that was just my natural way of saying hi, as I began to make myself comfy sitting on the right side of Armin. A couple of minutes passed before comfortable murmurs settled over the table. A few “How are you”s and “Did you finish Miss Ral’s homework” flew through the air, but nothing truly made impact. That is until Jean decided to break what could only be labelled as background noise.

“So are we all gonna just pretend that this stuck up bitch isn’t glaring daggers at me at OUR TABLE?! Or are we gonna address this?”

Silence was the only thing that met his rude remarks for a few of his friends were stunned, most likely because his outburst was random, and totally uncalled for. Just like his presence. I soon got tired of it, and decided to be the first one to break the tension.

“Excuse me?” I said.

“You heard me! You’ve been glaring at me since we met. What the fuck is your problem?”

“Jean!” Armin hissed.

“Don’t you “Jean” me. You know exactly what I’m talking ‘bout!” 

Jean’s voice was starting to raise considerably loud, and a few of the other lingering students started to glance our way. This dumbass was making a scene.

‘Fuck.’ I thought.

“Why can’t we ever have a normal breakfast?” one girl with a high ponytail sighed as she shoved another granola bar in her mouth. If I was counting right, I believe that was her sixth.

“Yeah, horseface, why can’t you just be nice. Gawd, you were so much cuter when you were five.”

“Ever since you got to this school you’ve been nothing, but a douche, Jean.”

“Yeah, well who asked you YEAGER.”

“Ummm. You did KIRSTEIN. And it’s JEAGER.” the tan boy growled.

I audibly sighed as I let my eyes flutter shut for just a second. I could already tell that this boy was going to be a pain in my ass. I just didn’t know he would be so…. blunt about it. I decided that now would be the best time to gather my things, and leave, before I made the situation worse. I started to remove myself from the scene when, all of a sudden, I felt Armin latch his hand onto mine.

“You don’t have to go. Jean’s just bein’ a baby.”

“I AM NOT!”

“ Jean hush.” Armin hissed.

Jean stared in a shock for about a millisecond before his face morphed into what could only be described as pure anger.

“You know what. Fuck this. Come get when you want to stop fuckin’ talkin’ to foreign noobs like him.”


	4. Pink: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We got an angry Armin, a flustered Hanji, and a fierce save from Levi. Can I get an "Amen" ?
> 
> Ok, so I know this chapter took WAY longer than it should have. It's just my life has gotten really hectic and  
> I had no idea this many people would like this pairing or story. Thank you all for the wonderful feedback. If you  
> guys have any guesses or suggestions for how you'd like to see the next chapter end up just inbox me or comment  
> below!~ I'll make sure to read them all. c:
> 
> So I noticed my favorite writer Kumikoko actually KUDOS MY WORK. Like I don't think anyone understands my happiness.  
> I could cry. You guys should really check out their work. IT IS SO GREAT. Ok, I'm done ranting now. The next chapter  
> will be up soon. No worries!~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I know this chapter took WAY longer than it should have. It's just my life has gotten really hectic and  
> I had no idea this many people would like this pairing or story. Thank you all for the wonderful feedback. If you  
> guys have any guesses or suggestions for how you'd like to see the next chapter end up just inbox me or comment  
> below!~ I'll make sure to read them all. c:
> 
> So I noticed my favorite writer Kumikoko actually KUDOS MY WORK. Like I don't think anyone understands my happiness.  
> I could cry. You guys should really check out their work. IT IS SO GREAT. Ok, I'm done ranting now. The next chapter  
> will be up soon. No worries!~
> 
> P.S. I gotta fix the ending.

He then pointed a finger at me, as if I was some form of a disease, and then proceeded to rise from our table. I could feel myself spreading amongst the group. Not physically, of course. But mentally. I wasn’t claiming them as my friends, or anything. Just as people I’d associate with if I had no other options. And I really didn’t. But Jean didn’t need to know that. So as he stormed off from from our area in the cafeteria, I allowed a small smirk to grace my face.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The one thing I can’t stand about being eighteen, and a senior at my parents’ old school, is my height. My feet echo loudly through the many halls of Maria, but everyone still manages to tower over me. In some form of respect they make sure to avoid eye contact with me, but I can still hear the quiet snickers, the silent glances. It’s a sign that I haven’t been labelled as a dangerous citizen yet.

It’s another thing I have to change.

I continued to let my mental ramblings guide me through the school, past the techno goths, over the chess club’s chess boards, and through the squeaky door on the left, which led me to another long corridor. Hall B.

Armin had told me to meet him here after our morning classes. Which, surprisingly, had gone by faster than expected. Sitting in class, listening to lectures, and spying on kids who thought I couldn’t see them staring at me were all things I could get used to. And even though some girl was chewing a pencil a little too loudly, I was still in a state of mind that some would describe as “calm”. It was a new type of feeling. One I hope would continue throughout the rest of the day. 

Suddenly, a loud clatter of pencils and notebooks fell to the floor. A nervous shuffled stack of books slid across the corridors as jocks tripped a geek. Loud booms of a laughter resounded from bystanders as they observed the spectacle. And a quick anxious glance in my direction is all I needed to know that said geek was silently begging me for my help. 

“Oh hell no.” I thought. “ I am not getting fuckin’ dragged into some cliche high school drama where some fuck ass nerd needs my assistance-”

“ HANJI!”

“ Oh shit.” I hissed mentally as I listened to the quick slap of sneakers against concrete. I knew that voice. 

“What the hell is going on here?!”

The crowd had quieted down considerably by the time said boy had made it to the scene. His hair was slightly disheveled for he must of been running for awhile. With pants still coloring the air he was so angrily trying to breathe, he took a quick glance around. It was clear to say he was not pleased with what he saw.

“Oh come on, Arlert. We were just having a little fun. It’s not our fault that Zoe can’t watch where she’s walking.” 

The blonde girl twirled a mis-placed strand of hair as she calmly smirked at Armin. Bullets were being fired verbally, and before I could intervene I heard the cock of a trigger.

“What the fuck did you say, Annie?”

I flinched slightly as I listened to the boy’s voice drop a couple octaves. The air had begun to possess a certain type of chill one would only expect in the middle of winter. Murmurs started to creep through the tension as the two had a stare off. The only thing you could hear between the two was the silent pleading from Hanji and the quickened puffs of breath that exhaled from Armin. This was about to be one hell of a moment.

“ I thought I just asked you a question, Annie? Or is it true that blonde girls are just as stupid as rocks?”

“Heh, if I wasn’t so sure I’d think you were talkin’ about yourself Arlert. Or are you still claiming to have a dick between those feminine legs?” questioned Annie.

“Arm, let’s just go. It’s ok. There’s no harm in walking away from her.” mumbled Hanji.

“No. Did you not hear what that bitch just said about you?! You want me to ignore what defines you!”

Hanji’s eyes were stuck glancing at a crumbled up math test as Armin began to squeeze his fists. It was at times like these that I would remember my dad.

With an orange crushed in his hand, he used to teach me how to dance instead of how to fight my enemies.

So before I could blink, I subconsciously began to tap my feet as the argument morphed into a dangerous tango of "Fuck" and "You".

I listened as the music began to play between the both of them.


	5. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi thinks some more about his life. Erwin tries to talk to Levi. But we all know that won't end well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guys I just wanna say I am so sorry that I haven't posted a chapter in so damn long. I just have been having some mental issues and author's block so please forgive me. DX I'll try to update every week now! Just please help me get ideas. I am honestly struggling. lol. 
> 
> Should Levi and Armin get to know each other next chapter or should Hanji tell you a secret about themselves? You guys choose. c;
> 
> Please comment below!

_There's a sort of rhythm in the way people like to dance around each other during physical situations. A few are blunt and straightforward, while others seem to remain sluggish, but also constantly in motion. Almost like they are dancing around to the notes of an inner song that no one else can hear. I have never heard such a thing- only a constant nagging from my mother on how I shouldn't wear so many pairs of black shorts and band tees outside._

_The fact that I still think about her voice is absolutely thrilling. The rush of an “icy-can-of-Coca-Cola-on-my-neck” type of chill is what I feel; and I can remember it like it was yesterday. Loose lyrics slipping into my ear at the dead of night; when the radio is playing, words are beginning to remind me of her lectures._

_There's the thought of an everlasting buzz coming from the old television set that is still annoying in my memories, but it is still good at blocking out the screams of my father. And from what I can recall, my father was a man that could shout his lungs out for days. He was willing to go on and on about how the carpet wasn’t that color yesterday or how we all needed to start watching the sun for at LEAST five minutes a day. I believe it had something to do with the government._

_Hilarious I know._

_But I know, even now, when she was still alive, that it drove my mother crazy, for she had to watch the man she fell for begin to go mad._

_Everything and anything reminds me of my life, but that’s just because it was not the “slice of life” kind of memories that would usually come to the mind of a teen my age. It was embarrassment, pain, and anything but normal._

_I guess that’s why I’ve always been thrilled by the thought of being “normal”. To have the ability to be classified as anyone but my mother, a woman who was just too high off._

_In all honesty, it was embarrassing._  

_  
_But I guess, maybe, that's because I hadn't heard his voice yet. For if I had, I just knew I wouldn't have complained about those stupid sweater vests my parents use to make me wear. Well, only on certain occasions. The shrill-like levels his lungs could reach were both intriguing and intimidating- especially when he was outraged._ _

_Though I'm not really anyone poetic or deeply descriptive, I can surely say that Armin's body language can only be characterized as the fury of a boy who has finally had enough._

" Mr. Ackerman, are you paying attention?"  

 “No.” I said.

  _"Shit..."_ , I thought to myself, "... _I forgot this guy was talking to me."_

“You seem to not really be aware of just how serious this matter is.”

“Well, Sir, I know it is serious enough that you had to close the door after I entered the **fuckin** ’ room.”

   There was a slight hesitation in the way his body turned to me, probably to spit out a sly remark. But as I waited in anticipation, he took a couple of deep breathes and easily composed himself. “ _Dull._ “, is all I can think as I let my eyes wander around the room for a distraction. Sadly, the only thing that comes to my mind are those damn lyrics I heard on the bus, and that stupid kid’s face. “ _Eren…?_ “, I think. “ _No that wasn’t it. Didn’t it start with a “J”.....JEAN!  His name was Jean. Man, that guy had it coming. Can’t sing for shit but surely can screech out false accusations on how I’m such a “stuck up bitch”._ “

   I suddenly feel a light tap on my shoulder. Slowly, I begin to rotate my chair to the source of this. It’s that man again. But instead of unflustered and straightforward, he seemed to be agitated and fed up with my presence. I guess I must have been silent for too long. Good.

I decided to speak the first “polite” words that jumped in my mind.

“ What.” I barked.

   He stared at me for a second. A slight twitch began to etch its way on his face- right above his eyebrow on the left side. And with his last inch of self control, he then leaned on his desk. I knew then that I had struck a nerve. 

“Did you hear anything I just said.” he lazily stated. I tilted my head in forged thought. One minute went by. Then three more quickly came right after that. Seconds drew on like the little grains of sand in an hourglass; rapidly passing by were the seconds that we would never be able to get back. No matter how hard we tried. And slowly, but surely he was beginning to become tired of this conversation.

“ _Excellent…._ “, I mused, “ _...a couple more minutes and the last bell will ring.”_

  My eyes jumped down from the clock in the corner to the blond man sluggishly standing in front of me. There was a slight warning in the way he slouched. A predator like gleam in his mature stare.

 _“ You’re tired of me aren’t you.”_ , I inwardly chuckled.

“Very much so, yes.” he bitterly said.

   A light smile painted my face as I came to realize that I had calmly stated that last line out loud. He was clearly upset with my nonchalant responses. Honestly, I had no idea on how he expected me to take this seriously. I wasn’t the one who got into a fight with the head cheerleader, but I was the one who jumped in. Curse my need to save others I _actually_ like.

“...... You aren’t going to tell me anything useful are you?”

“ Now you’re getting it.” I muttered.

  
“...This is gonna be a long day.”, he voiced. And with that, he then began to search his desk for some sort of document as the last bell began to ring.


End file.
